


Soaring still above your head

by drunknpylades



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Character Study, Eventual Relationships, Gen, Introspection, M/M, Memory Related, Speculation, Superstition
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-20
Updated: 2018-04-18
Packaged: 2019-03-21 15:21:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13743744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drunknpylades/pseuds/drunknpylades
Summary: Sometimes Molly can hear waves in those moments between sleep and waking. Sometimes there’s the smell of salt in his nose when there’s no sea for miles and miles. Fjord coughing the stuff up is just making it all so much more confusing.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Or, someone on tumblr mentioned that a mollymawk is a a kind of albatross and I ran with it. Might add more as time passes because I’m a shameless Fjolly shipper and this gives me so much room to work. Gotta love sailors and their superstitions.
> 
> Title is from the Bastille song Weight of Living

Molly touches his hand to Fjord’s chest, can feel the half orc’s heart still beating frantically beneath his palm even as he draws away. Cold liquid clings to his fingers and Molly brings his now soiled hand under his own nose. The smell of brine and salt on his tongue hits him in the chest like a physical blow and he struggles to keep the expression off his face. Instead he twists up his nose and sniffs disdainfully.

Jester says something he doesn’t catch but he can see Nott poke out her tongue in disgust.

“Was that like some nasty stomach acid or something?” Beau asks. She’s standing a good distance away from Fjord as if she expects him to spit something else up.

“Only one way to find out,” Molly says, holding out his damp hand and hoping no one else can see the way it shakes.

“Yeugh,” Beau’s face scrunches up and she waves her hands at him as she takes a step back.

Something smug worms through him and the uncertainty and wrongness fades from his limbs. Molly is about to drop his hand and wipe it on his pants (he can almost feel the salt sinking into his skin) when there’s suddenly a tongue on his palm.

Jester smacks her lips and squints into the air, trying to place the strange taste.

“Weird right?” Molly sees the exact moment she realizes what the water is.

“Yeah that’s weird.” She says.

“That’s definitely not normal.” Molly tries to turn things back toward Fjord, relieved down to his bones when Jester gives him a look before turning away completely to address the half orc.

“What happened, Fjord?”

There’s talk of dreams and magic and other confusing things that Molly barely pays attention to. He flexes his fingers, moving them together and trying to forget the feeling of salt drying on his skin.

“Are there benefits to pickling your weapon?” Beau asks.

Molly rolls his eyes because it’s expected of him and waggles his fingers at her. “He’s not wrong though, it actually is a pickle. You can taste it.”

There’s something like fond annoyance in the monk’s gaze when she glares at him. Molly grins and licks his own fingers because that’s what he would have done if his own skin wasn’t trying to crawl off his bones. But he can’t let them know that. Not when he’s not even sure why.

The burst of salt on his tongue sends his insides squirming anew and something like a memory scratches at the base of his skull.

“Did a lot of merchant sailing, previously.”

“Didn’t go so well.”

“Rough waters?”

“Did anyone die?”

Molly looks up and unerringly meets Fjord’s gaze. He knows before the other even opens his mouth, what he’s going to say.

“I don’t feel real comfortable talking about it.”

_Yes_.

Molly knows it in a way he’s never been so sure of in his life but he knows it.

_More than one_.

Fjord looks back down at his hands and Molly feels a weight around his neck. He knows without even having to think about it just how many souls were lost on that vessel.

There’s a quick flash of teal light and the weight is gone along with the knowledge as quickly as it came. Molly doesn’t even remember forgetting. Instead he’s clapping his hands like a dutiful patron at Fjord’s newest bit of magic.

“That’s a neat trick.”

The smell of brine fills his nose but this time his head and heart are silent.


	2. with no regrets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just continuing with the albatross idea. Some people think they can also be the spirits of drowned sailors, ferrying the rest across the sea. Molly’s not doing a lot of ferrying these days, more just going with the flow and trying to keep his head above water.

 

Molly saunters back to the room he shares with Fjord after a quick walk around the inn, giving the half orc time to put himself and his things in order before Molly taps on their door. Of course he opens it before Fjord calls out that it’s open but the warlock should know him well enough to have at least expected it by now.

“I trust everything is back in its rightful place?” He closes the door behind him and leans against it, hands loose in the pockets of his coat.

“Rightful and now hidden place.” Fjord grumbles, scrubbing his towel over his head as he sits heavily on the bed. “Not rightly sure what she was expecting to find.”

He has an idea about that. Nott had jumped at that paper scrap quick enough and Molly can put two and two together to make four. Not that he’s going to tell Fjord any of that.

His eyes trace across Fjord’s face for any hint of a lie, catching on a bead of water and tracing it down the column of Fjord’s throat. A bird cries in the back of his mind and something like panic flares behind Molly’s sternum. If he’s honest with himself he’d maybe been trying to catch his roommate in the midst of changing, hoping to sneak a peak of all that skin on display. He’d been expecting heat and arousal and maybe something flirty and easy but what he gets is salt in his lungs and a storm in his ears.

That cold weight that’s been chasing him through his dreams settles around his neck and Molly forces himself to move, to push away from the door and cross to where Fjord is pulling one leg up onto the bed as the towel settles around his shoulders.

Molly drops ungracefully to the floor, already sweeping his jacket back off his shoulders to hide the shake in his limbs.

“Maybe something shiny, maybe nothing in particular, maybe something she thought you’d have that she could use.” He says eventually, wrapping his swords up and tipping himself back to lay his head on the bundle. “Do any of us really know with her?”

“Caleb seems to, most of the time anyway.” Fjord answers, though he does narrow his eyes, seemingly lost in thought for a moment.

Molly folds his arms behind his head and very carefully forces his eyes to stare at the top of Fjord’s left ear. There are still damp trails on the half orc’s skin and Molly would prefer not to dream of water rushing in over his head if he can avoid it.

“I’m not in a hurry to get into our resident mud ball’s frame of mind if I can avoid it.” There’s no hitch or tremble in his voice and Molly turns his wince into a shrug when Fjord stands to pull a shirt over his head. He turns away and closes his eyes, ignoring the way the floor seems to sway under him like the deck of a ship.

His nights have been mostly quiet lately, even being in close proximity to Fjord, who still smells like salt and brine no matter how often they bathe. It’s been a different kind of torture to room with the warlock and Molly’s beginning to think it’s all in his head. Even when some nights he’s dizzy with the smell of the sea in his nose.

“I’m with you there.” Though there’s something odd in the half orc’s voice that makes Molly want to open his eyes and see what kind of expression is in his face at that moment. “Caleb’s head might not be the safest of frames to be in these days.”

Molly is positive Fjord didn’t mean to say that last bit out loud. 

“Cheery thought. Jester’s mind on the other hand...” He trails off, cracking an eye open and trying to get Fjord to fill in the blanks and clear the oppressive air in their little room.

A smile slides across Fjord’s face, easy as you please and something dangerously close to jealousy twists in Molly’s gut.

“That girl’s brain is a whole ‘nother can of worms. Not sure I’d wanna be in there either.”

It’s true. Jester is a completely different animal from Caleb, and while she seems sugary sweet and the personification of sunshine on the surface Molly gets the feeling there’s something else under all that frillery. Something with the potential to hurt.

“You make a fair point.” Molly replies after a moment. “Far too much sugar and pastel colors.” He blinks both eyes open and pushes himself into a sitting position, legs crossed and cards pulled from somewhere to fiddle with. “You’d probably wind up with a cavity just from stepping foot in there.”

“Don’t you ever get tired of it?”

There’s the sound of shifting fabric as Fjord sits back down on the bed. Molly pointedly doesn’t look up.

“Tired of what? Sugar? Very easily, as I’m not one for sweet things in excess.”

“That.” Fjord says sharply. “That right there. Don’t you ever get tired of your own bullshit?”

There’s the inevitable itch of panic under his skin that always comes with someone calling him out like this but Molly’s hands don’t still on his cards like they would have once. He doesn’t look up and try to talk himself out of it. He doesn’t run.

“Oh, all the time. It’s quite exhausting keeping it all straight sometimes.” Always put truth in your lies and they’ll lap up every word.

“Then why do it?” Fjord actually sounds sincerely curios and Molly needs to know for sure. 

He looks up, fingers still cutting over his deck and stacking it in a way that will give him a favorable reading next time he has need for it. Fjord is sat on the bed, elbows in his knees and hands laced between them, eyes meeting Molly’s with something dangerously like a challenge glittering in them.

Molly’s not sure who’d come out on top in that situation, so he does what he always does; he cheats.

“Why do you?”

Misdirection. Look over there, not at me.

Fjord blinks at him, expression going sour.

“Not talking about me right now. Asked you a question.”

“A question I’m not keen on answering so I merely offered you the same one. Why the act, sailor?” Waves crash in his own ears and this turn in the conversation could get dangerous. The weight still drags at his neck and Molly’s shoulders start to tremble under the effort of keeping his head up.

“Not much of a sailor without a ship,” Fjord says quietly. “Haven’t been on the water in, well, too long if I’m being honest. We are bein’ honest here, aren’t we Molls?”

The question, and the honesty if he’s being the same with himself, catch Molly off guard.

“We were on the water not too long ago, in Alfield.” He says, forcing his eyes away from Fjord’s as he scrambles to find his conversational footing. None of this has gone the way he thought it would.

Fjord narrows his eyes.

“You know what I mean.” An edge to his voice that Molly hasn’t heard before. Something dangerous and deep and fathomless as the ocean they’re trying to avoid talking about. “Know there’s some sailor in you too, even if you won’t admit it.”

“Well, not at the moment.” 

Fjord’s mouth actually drops open and Molly’s just glad that his uneven footing actually gave him an advantage. 

“You- you fucker, I’m trying to have a serious, open conversation and you gotta be like that.”

Molly flashes his fangs in a grin that has Fjord laughing so he’s going to chalk it up as a win in his favor. 

“You are something else.” Fjord says after a moment. It seems like he’s given up on prying at Molly’s uneven edges, but there’s a fond smile on his face so Molly knows they’re going to be alright.

“Someone has to keep you on your toes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still no beta reader so if you spot any glaring issues please let me know. And I’m always down for more headcanons if anyone’s got ‘em!
> 
> Not sure where this is going just yet but I’m planning to do a new chapter after every episode so we’ll see how long it takes Taliesin to squash these ideas.


	3. heavy weight of living

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly is having a confusing night. Nott is never going to trust himself or Fjord again, and yet Molly is distracted by the fact that the half orc wants to pray with him even after all the commotion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The prayer Molly says is The Swordsman's Prayer. Not very imaginative I know, but go with it. It seemed to fit.
> 
> Still no beta so any mistakes are my own and need to be routed out and destroyed. You guys are my honorary betas now so if there are any glaring mistakes please feel free to point them out so I can fix them.

The door to their room closes behind Nott and Molly feels like it’s more than just a physical door closing between them. When he’d spoken, tongue twisting around magic to get the full story out of their skittish companion, neither he nor Fjord had been expecting what they got.

With every word Nott spoke Molly’s insides twisted up tighter and tighter. Fjord had kept talking, voice low and soothing and Molly felt the rumble of it in his bones even now, even in the silence of their room with the implications of Nott’s words still hanging over them. Even now he’s pulling that calming sense of protectiveness around him and pretending like he doesn’t want to shake apart.

For all that he might not trust these people, Molly would never want to do them harm. And this, knowing that Nott is probably never going to trust he or Fjord fully again sits uncomfortably in his gut.

“Well, that was more than I thought.” Fjord’s voice breaks into the silence.

“That was very interesting.” Molly replies, stretching his arms over his head and being very careful to not seem any different than before. He knows the value of secrets and he and Fjord had just prised Nott’s out of her by force. Even if their intentions hadn’t been malicious, there’s no telling how it will effect them in the days to come.

“What did you make of all that?” Fjord asks. There’s something lost and confused in his voice and Molly wants it gone.

“Oh, I don’t know. People are strange. Anyone that looks like us can collect a few interesting enemies along the way, even at her age.” That sounded like him.

“You prayin’ over your swords tonight?”

“O’course, every night.” The question catches him a bit off guard in the moment but he recovers quickly.

“Can I join you?”

“Sure”

This is not going to end well. He’s already been knocked off course once that evening and having Fjord’s attention might just prove too much. But, needs must and all that.

Molly drops fluidly to his knees, pulling his swords from their bundle of cloth and spreading the whole mess out over the floor. Across from him Fjord copies his movements, instead sinking to floor to sit cross legged. There’s a tingle of magic in the air and Molly feels it tug behind his ribs, forcing himself not to look up when the sound of waves coalesces into the solid steel and chiton of Fjord’s falchion.

“So, how does this work exactly?” Fjord asks.

There’s the clink of metal on wood as he sets the falchion on the floor and Molly finally feels calm enough to look up as he resettles himself into a position that mirrors Fjord’s.

“You gather yourself, feel your own magic and the magic of your weapon joining and becoming stronger. Ask it to share its strength, to make you stronger, faster, invincible.” Molly tries very hard not to smile when Fjord closes his eyes, brow furrowing in concentration. “Now, call its name. Give yourself to your weapon and become one.”

Fjord actually draws in a breath, assumingly to do just that, when Molly finally loses his hold on his mirth. He must make some kind of noise because in the next moment Fjord is blinking his eyes open and glaring at him over their swords.

“You’re bullshitting me again, ain’t ya.”

It’s not phrased as a question so Molly doesn’t deign to answer.

“You set yourself up for that one, friend.” He says. “But being serious, there’s not actually a right or wrong way to do this. It’s more of a habit than any sort of real ritualistic magic.”

Molly reaches forward and runs the side of his thumb along the blade of one of his scimitars, drawing the smallest bit of blood along the blade before moving to do the same to the other. He doesn’t even register the prick of pain anymore, having done this more times than he can remember.

_“I need no paths set clear before me, nor trail blazed wide to lend me ease._  
_My purpose burns within my mind, and I know my duty well._  
_If any will walk the way with me, let them know first my determination.”_

The words come easily, said so many times that he doesn’t actually have to think about what comes next. The Infernal flows off his tongue as easily as breathing and his eyes slipped closed. He can’t do this and make eye contact with Fjord. Can barely do this with the knowledge that the other is paying such rapt attention.

_“For my sword, by then, will have cut the pathway clear, for them to follow or for another._  
_Though my sword may lie in silence, amid the dust of shallow graves, I will have served a greater good, and to it given all; in this I find my peace._  
_Heavy is the quiet of men too timid; its weight is as a millstone._  
_Noble is the sound that shatters the silence and cries defiant.”_

There’s a crackle of magic in the room and Molly’s eyes shoot open to find Fjord looking back at him with something like a challenge in his eyes. Molly looks down and watches the warlock draw his thumb across the edge of the falchion’s blade, and this time he’s not imagining it when the smell of blood and salt water fills his nose. He takes a shuddering breath and looks back up at Fjord, his voice steady and clear when he continues.

_“For those who cannot stand, I stand, in the name of those now silence, I shout._  
_Coin and coffer cannot alter the right and wrong of things._  
_I who stand, do so in faith, one for another._  
_When you call, I am ready; my sword to your service._  
_I am your hero, your brave, your strong._  
_When you call, I will hear you and be it known, I will answer.”_

The silence rings in his ears as his voice fades out, heart trying to beat its way out of his chest. His entire body is thrumming with something other, something bigger than he is that’s making his skin feel too small to contain it, stretched over his bones like butter over too much bread.

“You know I have no idea what you said there, but-” Fjord hesitates in the silence, not raising his voice beyond a whisper and Molly shivers. “But there was somethin’ in the air for a minute. Somethin’, somethin old that kinda made it hard to breathe almost.”

Molly is having a hard time breathing right then, ribs expanding and drawing in air that tastes like salt. It’s never felt like that before and now that magic in the air is fading away, drawing away from him and leaving him feeling bereft of warmth. He wants the ocean back in his blood even if only for a moment.

“Is it always like-”

Molly throws himself across the space between them and chases the taste of salt back into Fjord’s mouth.

It’s like coming home. Familiarity sparks in his chest and expands like a solar flare inside him, warmth radiating out from his core and through his limbs to the tips of his fingers, the soles of his feet. Warmth and safe and right.

The force of Molly’s movement sends them both tumbling back to the floor and Molly presses his advantage, knees spread over Fjord’s thighs and hands pressed to the wood on either side of his companion’s head. Fjord’s hands settle on his hips and for a brief second Molly thinks he’s going to be thrown off, pushed aside as the half orc tries to make some excuse or another about how they shouldn’t be doing this.

He’s prepared for the awkwardness and the way Fjord will refuse to meet his eyes and how, while their regular interactions may not change, Molly knows Fjord isn’t the type to hold this over his head, it will still sit between them like a shadowy spectre no one deigns to mention.

He’s prepared for it and yet the minute Fjord’s hands tighten on him to push back Molly realises that he wants this. He wants to keep this, this feeling of warmth and belonging and safety. Fjord doesn’t trust him and Molly doesn’t truly trust anyone but he thinks; for this? There is so much he would do to keep this. So he presses forward and licks into Ford’s mouth, tasting the sea on his tongue and trying to convey that this isn’t just tonight. It isn’t just because he feels like he might drift away if Fjord’s hands weren’t on him. He wants to know where this will lead them both, either dashed on the rocks or sails free with fair winds and the sun on their skin.

He’s prepared for the inevitable crash of reality, so when Fjord wraps an arm around his waist and tugs, Molly is caught off guard. His heart stutters in his chest as he’s pulled flush against Fjord’s body, the half orc answering Molly’s desperation with his own.

Now, Molly has kissed his fair share of people; men, women, and everything in between. He’s a lover of people, of personalities, trying to fill the space inside him that was always calling out for a very particularly shaped bit of someone. Fjord doesn’t fit that space. Their edges don’t line up perfectly like some kind of puzzle, but for the first time since Yasha, Molly thinks that he’s found someone that maybe could. One day.

He rolls his hips down and revels in the rumbling moan from Fjord that travels through him like thunder. Molly catches Fjord’s lip between his teeth and tugs, internally giving himself points when Fjord lifts his head to chase his mouth as Molly sits back and settles himself on Fjord’s thighs.

“That is not the reaction I was expecting,” Molly breathes out, licking his lips and looking very smug about the whole affair even while adrenaline sets his limbs to shaking. “Not that I’m complaining, of course.”

“Can’t say as I planned on it either.” Fjord says.

His hands settle on Molly’s thighs and that heat from before is still there, simmering just under his skin but now that he’s put a bit of space between them Molly has room to think.

“That was your mistake right there.” Molly says matter-of-factly. “You had a plan. Never plan ahead in the bedroom and you’ll always be pleasantly surprised.”

“Speaking from experience?”

“Always.” Molly winks, covering Fjord’s hands with his own as Fjord starts to run them lightly along his thighs.

“Your prayers always end like this?” Fjord teases.

Molly hasn’t heard that particular tone of voice from his companion before and he selfishly thinks maybe he’s the only one that’s ever heard it. There’s no way Fjord hasn’t had partners before, the man is too godsdamned charming to have been wanting for someone to warm his bed or his heart, and yet Molly tells himself that particular tone is just for him.

“Only when I have a competent partner.”

“I’ll show you competent.” Fjord growls.

Molly finds himself suddenly falling, back hitting the floor as Fjord reverses their positions and looms over him with a grin. Before he can think to say anything clever there are lips over his own and any real higher thought goes out the window.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The formatting looks weird to me but I am through messing with it.  
> Enjoy!


	4. there's a light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something about the best laid plans and all that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some smut and feelings before things inevitably fall apart in the next session

Crashing through the window hurts a little more than he was expecting it to and yet it’s the most fun he’s had that day. Molly rolls to his feet with a grin on his face and giddy laughter rattling around behind his teeth. The opportunity to act like a fool again, be the center of attention and let himself just go wild is like shaking off the weight that’s been pulling at him for days.

Fjord is at the mouth of the alley, the guise of one of the infirmary clerks hanging over his form and yet Molly knows him, looking at Molly like he’s some sort of crazy person. And yet there’s an answering laughter in the warlock’s eyes that makes something warm and altogether very pleasant curl in Molly’s gut. They’re on the same page. Molly hasn’t had someone on his page since Yasha left with the last storm.

Hell, if he’s being honest with himself Molly hasn’t had someone other than Yasha be reading the same book, let alone be on the same page as he is in years. The carnival came close, but it was a different kind of familiarity. Like reading the translation of a book in the wrong language; some things just don’t sound right.

But here and now, with glass in his hair and the smell of stale beer and eggs on his clothes Molly feels something shift. The air between them crackles with potential and Molly has the sudden urge to run into Fjord’s arms and wrap himself around the man, sink down into his bones and never leave. There’s the smell of the sea just barely noticeable under all the nonsense on his shirt and Molly’s thoughts go light and fuzzy.

Fjord jerks his head in the direction of the opposite end of the alley and Molly understands. He doesn’t like it, but he understands. They still have to get out of this, and from what Molly can hear, things have not gone well inside. He flashes his fangs in a grin and winks before turning on his heel and running off down the well lit alley to find some shadow and a safe path back to the Leaky Tap.

The grin never leaves his face.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“If you think I’m coming anywhere near you while you smell like that, you’re crazier than Jester on her more colorful days.”

“And yet you followed me up here.” Molly says, already pulling his shirt over his head.

The door clicks shut behind him and Molly’s gut swoops with aroused anticipation. He very purposefully keeps his back to Fjord as he tosses his dirtied shirt in a corner and moves to their bed. The fact that he can use that word, even in the comfort of his own thoughts sends a thrill through him. Being intimate with someone isn’t a new concept to him in the slightest, but wanting to continue being intimate with the same person, emotionally as well, is uncharted territory.

Molly digs in his pack sitting open on the foot of the bed, for a clean shirt and starts to very slowly pull it over his head. If Fjord stops him he’s prepared for it, but he’s also prepared if nothing intimate happens that night. Just knowing that Fjord is there, that he can feel the warlock’s gaze on his back, is enough.

A hand on the bare skin at his waist stops him, the hot line of Fjord’s body pressing in tight against his back.

“Leave it off,” Fjord breathes out. “Didn’t get to see enough of you last time.”

Molly shivers. It’s sugary and sweet in his ear and he isn’t used to the tone, soft and thick and syrupy across his skin, making him feel like Fjord is everywhere at once. Like Fjord wants to be there.

“Mmm, and here I thought you didn’t want to be anywhere near me tonight.” Molly lowers his hands, still caught in the arms of his shirt, and leans back against the body behind him. Fjord’s armor presses deliciously against his bare skin and Molly tips his head back onto Fjord’s shoulder to grin up at the half-orc. “Something about the smell and my being crazy?”

“Jury’s still out on that second one,” Fjord says, his hand tightening on Molly’s hip. “And you got rid of the nasty shirt, so I think we’re in the clear, sweetheart.”

The pet name sends something warm blossoming in Molly’s stomach. It’s not arousal, at least not entirely. It’s something soft and new and feeling like how he suspects love might feel. It’s like how he feels when Yasha kisses his forehead but multiplied by some astronomical number he can’t think of at the moment. Not with Fjord’s hands on him and the hard line of his body along Molly’s spine.

He presses back and turns his head so he can mouth at the line of Fjord’s neck, just under the curve of that strong jaw. “Maybe I should take the rest off, just to be sure.”

Laughter rumbles up from Fjord’s chest and Molly can feel it in his bones.

“Cleanliness is next to godliness and all that.” Fjord hooks his thumbs in the waist of Molly’s pants and tugs, just enough to bare another inch or so of skin, just enough so he can slide thick fingers under the material.

Molly inhales sharply against the skin of Fjord’s throat. He tastes like salt.

“You wash my back, I’ll wash yours?”

“Not exactly what I had in mind, Molls.”

“And what exactly did you have in mind, love?” The word trips off his tongue before he can stop it. Hopefully Fjord will just see it as an endearment, something said in the heat of the moment and not as the window into Molly’s head that it is. But before Molly can take it back or make light of it he’s being spun around, a foot hooked around his ankle to trip him back onto the bed. Fjord grips the shirt still tangled around his hands and uses it to yank Molly’s arms over his head.

“Stay.”

It’s forceful and gruff and everything Molly wants all in one word. His hands tighten in the material bunched up around his fingers and Molly’s mouth goes dry, all his clever words shriveling up behind his teeth as Fjord’s callused fingers set to work undoing Molly’s pants, dragging them down with quirk jerky motions. Like he’s just as eager as Molly is, like he wants to touch Molly as much as Molly wants to be touched.

Fjord’s hands are two points of molten heat on his thighs and Molly has to jerk his hands down over his mouth to cover the noise he makes as Fjord swallows him down.

That perfect, wet heat is pulled away almost immediately after and Molly blinks open eyes he didn’t remember closing to look down at Fjord with a kind of bewildered confusion. “Why did you-?”

“Hands, sweetheart.” Fjord says, nodding his head at Molly’s bound hands that have moved just under his chin after dragging them away from his mouth. “Keep ‘em up or this stops.”

“You are an absolute terror, darling.” Molly accuses. “Don’t ever stop.” And he raises his arms back above his head.

Fjord pinches his thigh in retaliation and Molly raises one leg to hook it over Fjord’s shoulder and drag him back in.

“Fucker.” But then Fjord dutifully returns to his previous task with gusto, licking slowly up Molly’s length before taking him to the back of his throat.

Molly’s insides twist up in the best way and he bites his lip this time to keep in the sounds he’s making. Beau and Jester are just down the hall and there’s no telling where Caleb and Nott have gotten to. He may have a bit of an exhibitionist streak, but he gets the feeling that Fjord doesn’t. And if anything happens to make pull the man away from his cock at that moment Molly might have to get violent. He likes this group, but not enough to forgive interrupting what is turning out to be the best blowjob of his life.

His hips jerk under Fjord’s hands, trying so hard to thrust up into that perfect heat, and yet Fjord presses him down. He shifts forward over Molly’s body and curls his forearm over Molly’s waist, using his weight to hold him down as he does his best to make Molly lose his mind.

“Fjord,” Molly digs his heel into Fjord’s back, his own spine arching up in pleasure. “Please.”

Fjord does something absolutely sinful with his tongue and Molly loses the ability to speak. His head jerks against the bedspread, hands clenching so tightly in the fabric between his fingers that he can hear something tear. There’s a hand spread across the planes of his stomach, sword callused fingers massaging the skin and moving up across his ribs. The ocean inside Molly’s skin boils, thrashes and moves in a way that is so very alive.

It’s too much and yet still not enough. Molly sits at the crest of that wave but he can’t get over it, the pleasure building and building until it’s almost painful.

Something must show on his face, or in the way his muscles tense, or Fjord just somehow knows exactly what Molly needs to tip him over that edge because he curls the fingers on Molly’s ribs and presses. Digs his fingernails into Molly’s skin and drags them down, leaving raised dark purple welts in their path.

That little bite of pain is enough and Molly falls over the edge.

He comes back to himself moments later, not even a full minute, and yet he still lost himself to the pleasure Fjord had given him.

Fjord is pulling back, standing at the side of the bed and wiping at his mouth with his thumb, making direct eye contact with Molly as he sucks the digit into his mouth and licks it clean. Molly’s spent cock stirs, and oh, the mind is so very willing but the body needs a little more time.

“Menace.” Is that his voice? He sounds wrecked and breathless and Fjord did that to him. That warm spot in Molly’s body swells up again and the pleasure from before is fading into something softer and relaxed, something fond.

Fjord chuckles and leans over him, brushing his lips against Molly’s in a quick kiss that leaves Molly feeling light and bubbly.

He untangles Molly’s hands from his shirt and slots his own fingers in between Molly’s. “Usually that’s you, doll. Had to give you a run for your money.” And then he’s kissing Molly like a drowning man. Pulling the air from Molly’s lungs and pushing himself back in, filling Molly up with him and giving him back the taste of himself on Fjord’s tongue.

It’s salt and the sea and something else that’s just him and Molly needs it more than he needs to breathe. His hands tighten on Fjord’s and he puts everything he is into that kiss, matching the passion Fjord gives him and turning it back tenfold. He can feel Fjord against his hip, the warlock getting himself off by just kissing Molly. Thrusting against him like a teenager, so keyed up on pleasure that Molly knows this isn’t going to take much longer.

“Come on,” he growls into mouth. “Come on you absolute fool of a man. _Come for me_.” The Infernal rolls of his tongue like water and for a moment Molly doesn’t know why he said it. Then Fjord is shuddering against him, grunting into Molly’s mouth and giving him exactly what he asked for.

They lie there in silence for a few minutes after. The only sound in the room is their panting breaths and Molly feels giddy.

“Never knew you had a thing for Infernal.” He says conversationally. “Should I tell Jester to be careful when she uses it in fights?”

Fjord pinches his hip and Molly laughs, boisterous and unrestrained and real.

“It ain’t the Infernal,” Fjord grumbles ahs he pushes himself up on an elbow. He looks down at Molly with something so fond and gentle in his eyes that Molly wants to just pull him back down and kiss him to the rest of the world falls away. “It’s just you.”

Molly kisses him again. Before he can say something else equally cheesy and perfect.

 

Later, when the city is falling apart and they’re facing an unknown enemy in the dark, Molly will remember this particular moment and draw his swords across his skin with the express purpose of protecting that feeling.


	5. with no regrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Memories and names are tricky things. At least Molly's got someone in his corner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's been a lot going on irl and I wanted to make sure I got through that Molly cliffhanger from episode 13 before I posted this one. Also, C2E2 was amazing and everyone is just as precious in real life as they seem. Enjoy some more Fjolly feels!

“Molly?”

The door closes loudly in the otherwise quiet room and Molly flinches despite himself. It’s such a change from the last time they were like this that Molly can actually feel the tension in the room. He was hoping he and Fjord would get a moment to themselves after the chaos of Jester’s truth spell, but now that they’re alone and the only means of escape has closed behind Fjord’s bulk Molly feels himself start to shake. 

It’s adrenaline and anxiety and the barest sliver of fear that makes his teeth rattle in his head and he can’t even force himself to turn around, much less answer Fjord with anything even remotely understandable. All of his words are caught in his throat and Molly can almost feel the earth on his face again. The muck and the stones catching under his fingernails while he tries to breathe through the dirt in his lungs.

“Molls, can you look at me sweetheart?”

There’s a hand on his shoulder, warm and big and grounding. Molly reaches for it with his own and lets himself fall back. 

Fjord is there, like he knew the half orc would be, and Molly lets himself be held. Lets Fjord’s arms snake around his waist and hold him up while he takes a moment to just breathe. 

“I didn’t want it to come out like this.” He says. And it’s true. He never wanted them to find out what a fraud he is, never wanted them to know that he’s not whole, that there are so many pieces missing. Pieces that he never wants to go looking for. 

“Would you have told us at all? If this hadn’t happened?” There’s no accusation in Fjord’s voice and Molly has never loved someone more than in that moment. 

“I don’t know.” He admits. “Maybe eventually, when I knew I could trust you all with it.” He turns in Fjord’s arms, looping his own around the warlock’s waist while still refusing to look up. “When I knew that you would want me around as Molly and not as whatever and whoever I might have been before.”

There’s dirt in his lungs, mixing with the seawater, and Molly pushes the memories back, pushes Lucian and Nonagon and everyone that’s not himself in this exact moment back down where he doesn’t have to think about them.

“Not gonna say I’m not confused as hell about the whole thing,” Fjord says. His hold on Molly tightens the slightest bit and Molly takes strength in it. “But you’ve clearly got some sore spots with whoever you used to be, so I won’t press on ‘em right now.”

Molly presses his forehead into Fjord’s chest and tries to calm the trembling in his limbs. He doesn’t deserve the understanding he can hear in Fjord’s voice and yet it’s there all the same. They’ll have to talk about it eventually, if Molly ever wants to have this thing between them stay as serious as he knows it could be. Fjord deserves someone who’s honest with him, not the bundle of secrets and unknown bullshit that makes up Molly’s person. And yet Molly finds himself selfish enough to want to hold on to him. 

There’s suddenly a hand under his chin, tilting his head up so he had to either look Fjord in the eye or pull away. And nothing is getting him to leave the safe cradle of Fjord’s arms, not when everything is warm and right and simple. 

When he meets Fjord’s eyes there is nothing but honesty and fondness there.

“Molly, I promise, you only gotta talk when you’re ready for it. Not gonna say I’m not hella curious, but it’s your life and we’ve all gotta have secrets. Wouldn’t be fair to force yours out into the light without giving a little in return ourselves.” Fjord’s thumb moves across his cheek and a smile makes its way across Molly’s face. 

“Are you saying you’ve not been entirely truthful with me, sir?” The teasing lilt to his voice is entirely genuine and Molly feels the tremble under his skin start to calm. 

“Always truthful about the stuff that matters, sweetheart.” And he leans down to drop a quick kiss on Molly’s lips. It’s more of a reassurance than anything sexual and Molly melts into it.

As Fjord pulls back he moves to tug at Molly’s wrists, dragging him along towards the bed. Molly follows and lets himself be maneuvered up onto the bed between Fjord’s thighs. Fjord himself leans back against the wall their bed is pushed against and pulls Molly into his chest. 

Molly buries himself in Fjord’s bulk and lets everything else fall away. He hadn’t planned on any of this happening so quickly. He had hoped he’d have more time, to get to know these people, to get to know himself. He’d wanted to know who he was before he told them all about who he’d been.

“You’re still thinking too hard, Molls.”

Fjord’s voice rumbles pleasantly against where Molly has his ear pressed to the half orc’s chest and he makes himself pull away so he can look the other in the eye.

“Then maybe you should distract me, love.”

Fjord actually rolls his eyes at him, rapping the backs of his knuckles over Molly’s brow. 

“You really in the mood for that right now?”

And the odd thing is that he isn’t. Sex is a convenient way to distract himself from everything in his head and under his skin that wants to pull him under. Yet here he is, comfortable to just curl up against Fjord’s warmth and just be.

“That’s what I thought.” Fjord says. “Now get yourself outta that coat and just let me hold’ya for a little bit.”

“I don’t need to be babied.” Molly complains, even as he sits up a bit to pull his coat off. “I’m perfectly capable of knowing my limits, thank you very much.”

Fjord laughs and catches the hem of Molly’s coat before Molly can toss it off the bed and drags it over the both of them like a blanket. 

“I believe you, darlin’.” Fjord says. “But maybe I just wanna cuddle ya for my own benefit. You ever think about that?”

Molly laughs despite himself and pokes Fjord in the ribs.

“You are a menace and I should stop encouraging you.”

“Hush, Mollymauk.”

The sound of his name on Fjord’s tongue sends warmth along his veins and Molly tucks his smile against Fjord’s chest where he’s mostly certain the other man won’t see it.

 

 

 

 

Molly wakes up to an arm around his waist and a line of warmth along his back.

He smiles and rolls so he can watch Fjord wake up.

It’s a slow thing. The arm around Molly’s waist tightens for a brief second and Fjord makes an adorably sleepy sound as he pulls Molly in closer.

“Time to face the day, love. We’ve got wisps to hunt.” Molly goes with his gut and leans down to kiss Fjord on the forehead.

“What time ‘sit?” Fjord groans. 

“Early enough to still get breakfast if you hurry.” Molly replies, and goes to roll out of Fjord’s arms to get ready for the day. 

Fjord has other ideas. 

The half orc gets a hand on Molly’s shoulder and tugs him back into bed, rolling them until Molly is pinned under all that wonderful muscle. 

“Almost forgot something, gorgeous.” Fjord says, pressing his smile against Molly’s lips in an all too brief bit of contact before he’s rolling over Molly, crushing the air out of his lungs in the process, and getting to his feet with much more grace than should be present this early.

Molly presses the back of his hand to his mouth and smiles, lips tingling after even that brief contact. 

“Get up, lazy.” Fjord says over his shoulder. “Got something to show you.”

That gets Molly’s attention. He’s upright in an instant, pulling his coat on and straightening out the wrinkles it sustained from being used as a blanket the night before.

“And what sort of surprise do you have for me this morning, my dear?”

Fjord stretches both arms over his head and Molly’s attention is caught by the strip of skin between shirt and trousers as the warlock moves across the room to retrieve the long sword from its place against the opposite wall. 

“Not sure if this’ll work but…”

Fjord holds the sword out in one hand and closes his eyes. 

There’s a tingle of something in the air and Molly blinks the seawater out of his vision, salt air in his nose as the long sword disappears in a swirl of teal magic he’s come to associate with Fjord. In the next instant Fjord is flexing his hand around nothing and the sword reappears, coated in the same chiton and barnacles as his falchion, blade dripping onto the hardwood floor of their room. 

The sound of the water on wood sets Molly’s heart to racing and he covers the anxiety creeping up his spine by rising from the bed and making his way across the room. 

Fjord lowers the blade and looks at him with something bordering on apprehension.

Molly steps into Fjord’s space and presses his hand to the half orc’s chest, just over his heart.

“The power was in you all along.” And he goes up on his toes to brush a teasing kiss along Fjord’s lips. 

There’s a flare of magic and the smell of brine before Molly is being swept up in Fjord’s arms as the half orc deepens the kiss. Their teasing little touches from the night before and that morning have finally seem to have caught up with them both. 

Molly reaches up and twines his arms around Fjord’s neck, pressing his tongue against the seam of Fjord’s lips. Fjord lets him in with a small sound and Molly takes full advantage of the opening Fjord is giving him. He licks into that heat and presses forward until Fjord takes a half step back into the wall. 

There’s no urgency, no sense that this has to continue to some inevitably messy ending, and even so Molly feels content. He hums against Fjord’s lips and pulls back, scratching his nails through the short hairs on the back of Fjord’s neck. 

“Not a bad way to wake up.” He pats Fjord’s chest and ducks out from under the arms around his waist, heading for the door. “I’ll save you a seat, but if you don’t hurry I’m letting Nott have your share of the bacon.”

The door to their room closes on Fjord’s flabbergasted expression and Molly grins to himself.

“That look means trouble.”

Molly does not jump. It’s a close thing but the fact that he knows the voice keeps him from any outward reaction. Even if it’s not his favorite voice. 

“I’m always trouble, Beau. You should know that by now.”

The monk rolls her eyes and shoulder checks him on her way passed him. It’s nowhere near as hard as she could have made it and Molly can see the hint of a smile curling up the corner of her mouth. 

“Whatever, Lulu. Just know that if he gets hurt in the process I’ll make sure you can’t crawl out of the next hole I put you in.”

The threat is legitimate and sends something cold and damp and smelling too much of dirt curling over his shoulders. It’s been so long since he’s had anything other than the sea and salt and now this. He doesn’t blame Beau for her protectiveness of her friends. Would probably have said something along the same lines if she had made any kind of moves on Yasha that seemed serious. It’s good to know that someone else is looking out for Fjord if Molly can’t be there.

“Noted.” And something, not friendly, but not entirely hostile either, passes between them. 

“You’re the one that’s gotta save him bacon.” Beau notes. “I am not getting between Nott and her breakfast again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know if there are glaring issues!


End file.
